A Mother Always Knows
by Cats070911
Summary: When Barbara refuses to have anything to do with New Year, Tommy is miserable. Can his mother convince him to go after her?


**Author's note:** all usual disclaimers apply. Wishing you all a safe, peaceful and happy transition into 2017 which I hope will be less tumultuous, more tolerant and way more peaceful. Hope to see you back here next year.

* * *

 **Early December**

"I refuse to do New Year this year. It's been a horrid year and I can't wait for it to go."

DI Tommy Lynley looked over at his sergeant and frowned. "That's the point, Barbara. You celebrate the passing of the bad and welcome a better year."

"Everybody welcomed this year too, and look how that turned out."

"Havers!"

"Don't Havers me. I'm right. And will changing year make people stop killing each other, or earthquakes destroying lives, or planes crashing, or crazy politicians, or any number of other horrors?"

"No, of course not, but we have to have hope. We all need hope in our lives that things will be better."

"I think I'm losing mine. I'm resigned to being a lonely, unhappy old woman."

Tommy took a moment to look at his partner. They had been working so closely for so long that they understood each other better than most husbands and wives. He knew she kept things underneath her armour, but usually, he had glimpses and understood. She had always been the strong one, the one with unfailing hope. Looking in her eyes, he knew her words were true. The year had worn her down. "Don't give up, Barbara."

"You're only saying that because you feed off my hope."

Ouch! She was right. He did use her as a lifebuoy when he sank into one of his regular depressive periods. Had he taken so much that she had nothing left for herself? "I'm sorry. Yes, I do rely on your optimism at times. I had no idea that it was destroying you."

She sighed heavily. "It's not. You gave me other things in equal measure. Ignore me. I'm just tired."

"So you will at least think about spending New Year with me at Howenstowe? We will have fireworks above Nanrunnel harbour."

"No. I can't, Sir. I just want to be alone. I'm not a country person, but this year I want to spend New Year away from the city, and crowds and fireworks. I've booked a cabin in Wales, miles from anywhere or anything. No mobile coverage, no people, nothing but peace."

"Wales? Who goes to Wales for New Year?"

"Me."

 **December 28**

"It's just for emergency purposes. I should know exactly where you are," Tommy said as he tried to reason with his stubborn sergeant.

"No, you don't need to know. I will be back on January fourth."

"And if you get snowed in and trapped, with no phone, no food? What if the pipes freeze and you have no fresh water? Me knowing where you are might be your only hope."

Barbara raised her eyebrows then frowned at him. "Thanks for the tip. I'll buy a ten-litre container and some chocolate bars to take with me."

"Barbara, please." Tommy was becoming desperate. He decided to be completely honest. "I... I get anxious if I don't know where you are or I can't contact you."

She stared at him with an expression he had rarely seen. Tommy felt compelled to shrug as if to half apologise and half say, 'it is what it is'. Barbara said nothing but pulled out her notepad and wrote down an address. "Here. Emergencies only. I'm leaving soon so had better get going. Have a Happy New Year, Sir. What time do you leave for Cornwall?"

Tommy took the paper and without looking at it, slipped it into his wallet. "I'll drive down in the morning I think. I don't want to get there too early."

"Enjoy it. I'm sorry if... I really just need some time alone."

Tommy nodded. For weeks his sergeant had been unusually quiet and troubled. "I understand. Happy New Year, Barbara. I hope it helps you, but if you change your mind..." He did not need to finish his sentence.

"Thanks. I know. See you on the fourth."

 **December 31**

Mid-afternoon Dorothy Lynley threw a towel at her eldest son. "Are you going to help me, or are you going to sit and mope all day like you did yesterday?"

"I'm not moping." Tommy picked up the towel and helped his mother wipe down the outdoor furniture ready for the evening's party.

"You have another word for it?"

"I'm fine," he snapped.

"It shows."

Tommy knew he had been rude. "I'm sorry."

"Go after her."

"What?"

"You heard me. Drive to wherever she is and tell her. Don't prevaricate like you tend to do. Just tell her very plainly exactly how you feel."

Tommy was confused by his mother's directions. "I don't understand, Mother."

Dorothy groaned and made a choking gesture at her son. "Did I raise an idiot? Where is Barbara?"

"Somewhere in Wales."

"Wales? Who goes to Wales for New Year?"

"That's what I said. She said she wanted peace and time to think."

"Maybe she feels the same things you do."

"I don't know what I feel. She infuriates me at times. At others, I think she's the only person who understands me. I hate being apart from her for too long. I miss her; that's all."

"In my day that called that feeling love."

Tommy looked up at his mother. "No."

"Why not?"

"Well, I suppose I love her, as a friend. Not that way. I can't be in love with her."

"Why not?"

Tommy sat on a seat and with his elbows on his knees her ran his hands repeatedly through his hair. "It's different. Different to Deborah, or Helen."

"Does it have to be the same? Do you think about holding her? Kissing her? Making love to her? Does the thought of that raise goosebumps or other things?"

"Mother! I've never thought of us like that."

"Oh really, Tommy! I'm your mother. Of course, you have."

"No, only how it felt holding her after... It doesn't matter. Whenever my mind starts to think about kissing her, I stop myself. I have to. She's my partner. My friend. What if...?"

"And what if it does work? Surely it's worth the risk to know."

"She doesn't feel that way about me."

"You sound very certain. Have you asked her?"

"No! Of course not. I asked her to come here. She refused. She wants to be alone. They're not the actions of a woman in love."

"But it is the action of a woman in love who is trying to deny it or hide it. We're about to start a new year, Tommy. Go to her. Tell her how you feel. Tell her you're confused and afraid. Tell her that despite that you are prepared to try. You both might be very pleasantly surprised by the outcome."

"She doesn't want me there. She made that clear. She might have another man."

"Oh, Tommy. She doesn't. I promise you that. Now either help me or pack your bag. And if you stay here, then don't drink too much or fight with your brother just because you're too scared to do what you know you should do."

Tommy quickly wiped the rest of the furniture and ignored his mother's under-the-breath grumblings. He went to his room and for the first time, checked the address where Barbara was staying. Tommy had never heard of the village that her cottage was near. He flashed up his phone's maps and found it tucked into a valley within the Brecon Beacons. It was about a four-hour drive. He checked his watch. It was just after four thirty. By the time he left, he would not arrive until nearly nine thirty. It would be dark, and he would have to try and find a remote farmhouse. It was not impossible, but difficult. He lay back on his bed trying to decide what to do. For the first time, he allowed himself to think about kissing Barbara. He imagined her lips gently tugging on his and her tongue... Yes, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss more than her lips. He could almost feel the softness of her neck and shoulders. In his mind he could taste the saltiness of her skin as he traced kisses down... Oh, yes, he definitely wanted to kiss her. And more.

He swung off the bed and hastily packed a bag. He found his mother outside. "I'm driving to Wales. I'll take the Range Rover if that's okay."

His mother looked relieved and happy. "Of course. Drive carefully and don't speed. She'll be there waiting."

"This could end very badly, Mother."

"Only if you let it. Be persuasive but don't rush her. She's probably been rationalising everything too and finding every reason why you could never be together rather than looking for the few good reasons why you should be. You're both getting too old to keep waiting to see. If she touches something in your soul that no one else can, then don't worry about anything other than being happy. Life's too short. I know that only too well."

The sadness in her eyes was a more powerful message than her words. Tommy walked over and hugged her. "I'm sorry I contributed to that."

"No, it is me who should apologise. You can't fully trust any woman now because of me. Barbara's not me. She's so much stronger. If she loves you, she's already loved you through everything and will love you until she dies. A mother knows these things."

Tommy frowned. "You think she was in love with me before?"

"I know she was, Tommy."

"But..."

"She wanted you to be happy. If that wasn't with her, then she was prepared for that because she thought it was what you wanted. She was satisfied with just being your friend."

"Then why isn't she here?"

"In my opinion, it's because you have grown closer yet nothing has changed between you. She thinks for you it's platonic and you said she was tired. Maybe here she didn't think she could hide it any longer. Maybe she thought you would laugh at her. There could be any number of reasons. Even just getting older and more life-weary. You have to talk to her, Tommy, not me. Now go and sort everything this year so that next year is free of doubts and torment."

Tommy nodded, then kissed his mother, grabbed his bag and headed for the car.

* * *

The drive was foggy for most of it and in some places treacherous due to black ice. Four hours soon became five and Tommy was frustrated, anxious and slightly angry when he pulled into the car park of the Tudor Arms pub. He looked for Barbara's car, but it would have been too easy to find her with a pint in her hand. This had become a quest and he knew he had final hurdles to face.

For a small farming district, the pub was crowded. Men in heavy jackets with thick beards seemed to outnumber the women, but no one seemed to care. In one corner there was a singer with guitar playing what he presumed was a favourite as most of the pub was singing or humming along. He had almost forgotten it was New Year's Eve until he spotted the clock above the bar. It was nearly ten forty-five. He pushed his way to the bar. "Excuse me, can you give me directions to Davies Farm?"

The bartender was a big man. He towered above Lynley, and his neck was thicker than the average oak. He stooped a little and stared into Tommy's eyes. "Which one?"

"Ah!" Tommy had not considered that. Davies was a very common name in Wales. "A woman is staying there. Barbara Havers. She's up from London."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Well, who are you then, boyo?"

In these circumstances, Tommy often pulled out his title to impress. Here he sensed that it would have the opposite effect to what he wanted. "I'm her boss, from London."

The man's eyes narrowed. "So not the man she's come here to forget?"

"Did she say she was here to forget a man?"

"Not in so many words, but that's why people come here. To forget people who broke their heart. I hoped for a moment you were that man. She's got a good heart, that one. Never mind. So this is work, is it? On New Year's Eve? Can't it wait?"

"Work can, but as I'm here, I'd like to spend New Year with her."

The bartender smiled, and Tommy wondered if he knew. "Go back down the road three miles. Turn left. It's a windy road for about a mile. Then you'll come to a fork. Take the left road. Follow it about a mile until you reach the farmhouse."

"Back three miles. Left. Left at the fork. Follow it for a mile. Thank you very much, you've been very helpful." Tommy pulled some money form his wallet and put it on the bar. "Happy New Year."

The gravel roads were slippery thanks to a thin layer of ice that crunched under his tyres. Tommy drove slowly and cautiously. He found the fork easily but then the road narrowed to little more than a goat track. Near the top of the hill, the fog was so thick that his lights bounced back at him reducing visibility to zero. He turned off his lights and relied solely on his foglamps. When one wheel slipped over the edge of the road, Tommy fought hard to regain control. He parked on a flat spot and considered his options. The fog was getting thicker, and it was now unsafe to drive in it. He looked at his watch. It was approaching eleven fifteen.

Tommy found the torch in the glovebox and retrieved his bag and coat from the boot. He locked the car and began to walk. The fog smelt fresh yet earthy. As he walked along, the cool fog gently settled as little beads of moisture on his coat. By keeping close to the slight mound of dirt that had built up along the shoulder of the road, he was able to follow the road and be confident he was heading for the farmhouse.

After twenty minutes the ground flattened out. In the fog, it was easy to become disoriented. He used the torch to find tyre ruts which he followed until he bumped into a car. Covered in ice, it was impossible to identify it. He felt around the edge until he found the rear. He bent down to look at the numberplate.

"Aaai-ya!"

Tommy crumbled to the ground as his knees gave way. Pain shot up his leg from where he had been kicked. He tried to speak, but another blow to his gut winded him. All that came out was a little moaning hiss. A heavy weight landed on his chest, and a hard object was pressed against his neck.

"I have a knife. Even breathe the wrong way Mister and I'll use it."

"Barbara?"

Light from a torch much more powerful than his own beamed onto his face. Defensively he screwed his eyes shut. The pressure of the knife point against his throat lessened. "Sir?"

"Happy New Year," he said weakly as Barbara removed her knee from his chest.

"What the hell are you doing sneaking around?"

"The fog," he panted, "too thick. Had to leave the car and walk."

"Why are you here at all?"

"To wish you a Happy New Year."

Barbara helped him to his feet and steered him towards the farmhouse. "You drove four hours to wish me a Happy New Year? Haven't telephones made it to Cornwall yet?"

The farmhouse was an old stone cottage. Inside it was quaintly but sparsely decorated. Tommy collapsed onto the old settee which groaned under his weight. Barbara stood above him staring down. "You said you wouldn't have coverage up here."

"I suppose you'd like a drink?"

Tommy nodded. Wordlessly, Barbara turned and left the room. Tommy turned to look at the small fire burning in the stone fireplace. The inside walls were lime-washed stone. The cottage was cold and felt slightly damp. Two piles of books were next to the wing-backed chair nearest the fire. A glass half full of what looked like whisky was sitting on the small table beside the chair. The BBC's New Year's Eve party, broken by periods of static, trickled from a small radio on the mantel. It was a sad room. He found it hard to believe Barbara had chosen to come here for her break.

Barbara returned with a glass and a half-empty bottle of his favourite whisky. She poured him a generous finger and passed him the glass. Her eyes told him he was expected to provide an explanation in return.

Tommy downed the whisky quickly and poured another. "I missed you."

"Oh?" Barbara frowned and continued to stare.

"Barbara, if what I say next upsets you, do you promise not to ninja me again?"

A small smile made her mouth curl. To his relief, her eyes softened. "I didn't ninja you! I thought you were some creep from the village here to try his luck."

Tommy inhaled deeply then sipped his whisky. "I can be a fool at times."

"I know that. You didn't have to drive four hours to tell me."

His mother's advice rang in his ears. Keep it simple. Just tell her. "Barbara?"

"Yes?"

"I value our friendship above everything, so if what I say now offends you, then we can forget it and still be friends, or at least I hope so."

"You're making no sense."

"These last few days I've come to realise that I've been... that I want to... that we should... that I..."

"What, Sir?"

"I'm in love with you want to spend my life with you." He had planned something softer and more romantic. Maybe he should have kissed her first? Barbara sat down heavily in the chair. She said nothing and just stared ahead. Tommy dropped to his knees and moved across to her. He reached up and gently ran his hand down her cheek. "Barbara?"

She closed her eyes. Two single tears dribble down her face. Tommy wiped them away with his thumb. He raised himself up on his knees and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest. Her breath tickled his skin and raised goosebumps all over. He waited for a sign. He half expected to be thrown on the floor with his arm twisted painfully up his back. He was relieved when her arms slipped around his waist.

Even though Tommy wanted to kiss her, he sensed she needed time. So he held her. All her muscles were tight. Slowly she began to relax. "Are you sure, Tommy?"

"Yes. And you?"

Barbara leant back and looked at him. "I've loved you for years."

"I know. I refused to acknowledge that what we have is love. I tried so hard not to think of you that way. I should have realised that it was a clue that I did love you. When I moped around Howenstowe, Mother made me see reason. When I let myself think about you as my lover, well..."

"You decided to drive four hours in this weather just to tell me?"

"It was five hours in the end. No, I decided to come here and prove it to you."

Barbara grinned at him. "You did. I knew as soon as I saw your face in my torch beam."

"How? I was petrified of you."

"No, you weren't. You looked at me the same way you did that night at my flat. Remember?"

Now Tommy smiled broadly. "Yes. Yes, I do. It was the only time I let myself think that maybe..."

"Me too."

Tommy bent forward to kiss her. The room went quiet then the BBC chimed in, "Ten, nine, eight, seven..."

"I love you."

"Four, three..."

"I love you too Tommy."

"One! Happy New Year!"

Their kiss started on the stroke of the new year and continued well past the fireworks and partying in London. As Tommy pulled her onto the floor and kissed her her neck, he found it was softer than he had imagined. He traced kisses over the pathways he had thought about on the long drive.

"I'm sorry you missed your fireworks, Tommy."

"No, I would much rather we create our own."


End file.
